The Rainbow Book
by amazinglilli
Summary: It's been a while since Skeeter has been in Mississippi so when she comes back for Carlton and Rebecca's wedding she has mixed emotions. What will Hilly do? What have Aibileen and Minnie been up to? but most importantly, what am I going to write about? Find out all of this and more as you once again spend some time in Skeeter, Aibileen, Minnie, and Sugar's shoes.
1. Chapter 1

**Skeeter**

I Slowly Sit Up On The Edge of my bead and stretch my aching back that has been hurting since last night. My feet are swollen, my hair looks like a rag, and I feel like the bottom half of me just can't catch up with the top but it was perfect. The best fun I had in a couple weeks actually. In New York there are a fair share of parties, but this one was amazing. I can still see me swinging around the room on David's arm. He's the accountant for Harper and Row publishing and man can he dance. I swear he swung me around so fast and so smooth you would have thought I was on skates. One thing is for sure, I definitely don't miss Mississippi.

I stumble to the kitchen and put on a cup of coffee which doesn't take but two seconds considering how small my apartment is. The broker said it was large for a New York apartment, but I think he was lying. I straiten up my flannel pajamas and lean my elbow on the counter. I'm so exhausted my fist almost goes strait into my eye socket.

_Why cant this thing go any faster?_ I think. _I mean it doesn't do much the rest of the day, why can't it just give me what I need to get through the day a little bit quicker?_

As soon as it's done I pour myself a cup and let the hot liquid warm me up until everything from my ears to my toes are tingling. I instantly feel more awake and most of the aches have become barley noticeable. Although it's very good I find myself adding a teaspoon of sugar and reaching into my small refrigerator to pour a little milk into my mug. As I put it back stare at the invitation stuck to its green metal coating.

_You are cordially invited to celebrate_

_the wedding of_

_Rebecca Leigh Clark_

_and_

_Carlton Luis Phelan_

_On Sunday afternoon_

_April the 15th_

_at five o'clock_

_Twenty-three Brayer Street_

_followed by a reception_

I take off the magnet, flip it around, and stick it back on. I am not looking forward to that. It's not that I don't want to go home really, it's that I don't want to go back to everything else that come with it. Hilly spreading lies about me and causing me, seeing Stuart after what happened between us, and Mama nagging me about, well, everything. I hear she's getting better though. I can see it in her letters. They said almost a year and a half ago now that she only had a few weeks left. I guess mama was right, she had decided not to die.

I exhale deeply and blow a few curly stray hairs out of my face, only to have them reappear a few second later. I sigh, setting down my coffee, and walk over to my closet. Since arriving in New York mama doesn't trust me enough to buy my own clothes so she sends me new ones every couple months. Usually I just keep the ones I like and sell the ones I don't, which is a lot.

I pluck a tight fitting purple tweed knee length shirt and a white cap-sleeve shirt with a satin bow hanging from the neckline. My hair has grown a couple inches longer in the past months, enough that I can finally twirl it up in a bun, so I do. I take my ratty slept on hair, brush it and twist it so hard that by the time I stick the pin in it to hold it together my hair almost looks normal. I take my new black handbag and fill it with everything I need for the day and I'm almost about to close the door when the phone rings.

_Ugh, it's always just as soon as I'm out the—_ "Hello?" I ask picking up the phone.

"Put it on channel three," she says. I can tell it's Aibileen.

Since moving to New York we haven't talked much, just a couple times to catching up. It's easier than before though because people in New York they don't judge.

I walk up to the television and turn the knob to channel three, the phone still in my hands. As soon as I do all I can see is the cover. The cover of _our_ book. I can't help but smile a little. It's been reviewed a couple times but recently the number of copies has started going up. _"And today we announce that the book sweeping the nation, _Help,_ has now made it onto of the New York Times best sellers list,"_ he says with a wide smile that seems to cover almost his entire face._ "So make sure to grab your copy today folks. They're flying off the shelves."_

"Did you hear? It's on the best sellers list," Aibileen says so excited. I can't help but giggle a little myself.

"Yeah, I heard. So how things going down there?" I ask.

"Okay as they'll ever be," she sighs. "How's out there? You hav'n fun?"

"Oh, loads of it, Aibileen. Crystal chandeliers, colored televisions, and parties all the time. I haven't written this much in my entire life."

"Well good. We'll see you in a week."

"Sure, bye, Aibileen."

"Bye, Miss Skeeter."

* * *

My Slim Black Leather High heeled shoes clack on the black and white marble floor as I walk in the lobby of Harper and Row. Stanley, the front desk security man, greets me as I pass by and tries to start a conversation but I'm already in a rush. I've only got two minutes to get up to the seventh floor and into my Monday morning meeting. I press the button and to the elevator and tap the toe of my shoe over and over and over until the door slides open. I step inside its silver chamber and press the floor button,, but just as soon as the door is about to close someone yells from the lobby.

"Wait! Hold the door!"

I roll my eyes and stick my arm in front of the door causing it to bounce back. He quickly runs in and starts panting so hard it takes him a good minute to push his floor. When he finally lifts his head from in between his knees I register his face. It's David.

"Hey, Skeeter," he says giving me a charming smile. "So, what did you do last night?" he says swaying towards me.

"Why don't you guess," I tease.

"Well I know I had an amazing time with this one girl..." He looks over at me causing my cheeks to turn red. "...but I don't think she's that interested."

"And why not?" I ask going on with the charade.

"I honestly don't know. I'm very charming you know."

I let out a quick laugh as I feel my cheeks turning bright pink. "And very modest I see."

He laughs. "So, what do you say? Dinner tonight?"

"Sure," I reply smiling slightly.

A bell rings as we hit his floor. The doors open and he smiles. "I will see you at eight then," he says trying to do his best at an English accent. I smile and he returns it before the door shuts in one smooth glide.

* * *

The Seventh Floor Of Harper and Row is not a quiet place. Writers, secretaries, editors, and assistants fill the room. Row after row of well dressed men sitting in their desks editing papers, women clumped around the isles with their done up hair and cigarettes dangling between two fingers while catching up with the morning gossip, and extras run around.

I walk up to Miss Davidson's office and unlock the door for her because she always forgets her keys. Then I go to the coffee station, making sure to sift through all the bimbo's gossiping about what everyone did over the weekend. I take a Styrofoam cup and fill it three-fourths of the way before adding cream, sugar, and cinnamon. Just as I'm about to turn away Bethany taps me on the shoulder and almost makes me spill it.

"Jesus Christ! You scared me!" I say flicking her arm and smiling. Since moving to New York Bethany and me have become good friends. She is a petite brunette secretary from Ohio. She's a little more frilly than me, but unlike most of the other girls here she cares about her work.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she says as we both try to weave our way through to the isle. Today she's wearing a kelly green knee length tweed skirt with matching cropped pea coat and floral scarf. Her smooth short cut chocolate brown hair is pulled up into a bouncy pony tale and secure with a royal blue bow. "I just wanted to know what happened with David."

"How are you so sure anything happened?" I ask trying to come off as coy.

"Because I know you. You look like you're like glowing or something... plus everyone in the office is talking about it."

"What?" I ask sinking down into my seat surprised, although I really shouldn't be. News travels faster here. I remember a couple months ago everyone  
knew that Julia from accounting was pregnant even before she did.

"Yeah, so anyways, what happened?" she asks resting her elbow on my desk and leaning in close to me. Her fake eyelashes flutter with excitement.

"Oh, Bethany, it was amazing. I saw him at this party last night and we ended up dancing for the rest of the night. Then today in the elevator and he asked me to dinner."

Her eyes grow large and her mouth drops open but she quickly closes them. "I'm so happy for you. This will be good for you. But, hey, what about your brother's wedding? It's in a week, right?"

"Yeah, I am so not looking forward to that mess. Your lucky your from Ohio."

Miss Davidson walks into her office clacking in her bright blue skinny high heeled shoes. I grab her coffee and rush in behind her, making sure not to spill any on the way. She drops her large black leather bag off the tips of her fingers and into my arms as she makes her way to her desk.

"Good morning Miss Davidson," I say trying to be cheery. She's never in a good mood on a Monday.

"So what's going on with the Newman project?" she says slowly placing her bottom in her large paisley printed armed wingback chair behind her desk and taking the coffee from my hands.

"They're sending over the trademarking papers today. It should all be settled by next week."

"Okay, and the writer who was supposed to review The Revenge of Martha Lee called is going to be out for the next three days, 'puking his brains out,' he said," she laughs as if it was an excuse she'd hear a million times before. "Anyways, it's due by tomorrow and on such short notice no writer in town will do it so I need you to write that by tomorrow morning."

"Me?" I ask surprised. I've written a few things since coming to New York, but they were all just minor articles of columns for some small magazines. This was going to be on the front of the entertainment section of the New York Times.

"Yes, you. Who else? Certainly not Max, or Mary. Ugh! Anyways, you've proven yourself, and Miss Stein had wonderful things to say about you. Whatever you did must have been good. Now get on it, " she says waving me out the door and taking a sip of her coffee. "And send Mindy in, will you?"


	2. Chapter 2

I Walk Up To My Apartment and open the dark wood door slowly, my fingers still raw and sore from the endless typing. I immediately flick off my heels in the direction of the shoe mat mother bought me, letting one fly off course and under the worn down vintage white wood table that's always got paint chipping off. I tiredly drag myself to the fridge and grab an icy cool cup of water to wake myself up before moving to the couch.

The couch is one of my favorite things I've bought since moving to New York. It's a boxy sage green couch with buttons where your back goes to hold down the fabric all nice and an extra comfortable cushion for your bottom. On top of it lay three geometric patterned pillows. I plop down on the right side and stretch my aching feet on the light wood coffee table next to a stack of magazines. The Beatles flash on the screen as soon as I turn on the television and I grab a cigarette from a carton of Marlboros sitting on the table. I notice a warning label that seems new.

_ Caution: Cigarette smoking may be hazardous to your health._

"Huh, I guess Mister Golden was right. I should probably quit," I say pondering the idea and pushing the bud into an ash tray. I continue to watch the Beatles, but my feet grow fidgety as my nose continues to smell the nicotine still lingering in the air around me. "Oh, one more wont hurt," I say grabbing another from the carton and lighting it before throwing the rest into the waste basket. I stay there watching the show with the cigarette limp between my fingers as my eyes grow closed. I beat out the bud just before my eyes go shut and the sweet music puts me to sleep.

_ "Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away/ Now it looks as though they're here to stay/ Oh, I believe in yesterday/ Suddenly, I'm not half the man I used to be/ There's a shadow hanging over me—"_

* * *

I Lift My Heavy Head From the couch and glance at the clock across the room on the wall.

It's seven o'clock!

I instantly perk up, run into my room, and go straight to my closet. It hasn't struck me until now how nervous I am for tonight. I haven't been out to dinner with someone since Stewart. I mean I've had my fair share of drinks with men since coming here, but they ended in nothing more than conversation. David likes me. I've never been out on a first date with someone who likes me. Even with Stewart on our first date, with Hilly, he couldn't stay out of the bottle long enough to hear my last name, never mind like me.

"Ugh, I wish I had listened to mama!" I say, and instantly cover my mouth, surprised. _I never thought I'd hear myself say that._

I try and think back to all the things mama had told me about keeping myself looking well for a man and take the dress Bethany gave me for my birthday. It's a slim fitting knee-length dress, the perfect shade of purple to compliment my hair color without screaming smushed grape. It has a strapless sweetheart neckline with the most beautiful lace I have ever seen running all the way up to my collar bone and across my shoulder blades to create the effect of straps. I just know he'll drop dead when he see's this, metaphorically of course.

I arrange my hair into pretty curls the best I can, which was made a little bit easier considering the twisted bun I put it in this morning. I pin back one side of it, above the ear, making the other side look fuller. A lot of people Miss Davidson is always talking about wear it like this sometimes apparently. My uneven toned freckled face seems to be covered with the makeup from mama I've been keeping in a box in the back of the linin closet for a rainy day. The ruby-red lipstick sticks out a little against my pale skin, but man does it smooth them. Jesus, if only everyone in Jackson could see me like this.

I look at the clock again and it's almost eight so I slip on a pair of black satin high heeled shoes and started pacing around the room, not wanting to ruin anything by sitting.

A couple minutes later I hear something clack against my living-room window. I walk over and pull open the window to see David standing on the sidewalk, all dressed up.

"Are you ready to go?" he asks.

"Yeah, just a second. I'll be right there," I say, before grabbing my purse, shutting the door, and trying not to run down the stairs.

My feet weave in and out as I make my way down the many flights of stairs, my heels clacking against every step along the way. When I finally reach the first floor I'm exhausted, but David looks like he has less breath than I do.

"Wow! You look amazing!" he says, offering me his hand for the last few steps to ground level. He opens his mouth to expose a crack of his charming smile and I automatically smile back.

"Really?" I ask, looking down at myself before glancing up at him.

He wears a nicely tailored grey suit with a white button up shirt and simple black tie. His curly hair almost seems to match his chocolate brown eyes that shine in the dimmed light of the hallway. His stubble chin smells of expensive aftershave and the rest of him of a manly cologne.

"Yeah," he says, with yet another charming grim. "But hey, how about we go take a walk around the city before our dinner reservations? You know, unless you'd rather admire the hallway. Although I have to say, it is better than the one at my apartment."

I laugh. "Sure." He hands me a beautiful red rose, matching the color of my lips. He takes my incredibly cool hand in the warmth of his and leads me out the door.

* * *

Small Dark Green Trees Sit in piles of dark soil every couple of yards, their trunks supported by tall wooden pegs. They bring a greatly needed contrast within the concrete sidewalks that cover the entire city. Black painted lamp posts stand in-between every other tree, giving the street a charming yellow glow, like that of the dulling sun, to compliment the constant bumper to bumper headlights that shine off every car in the endless flow of metal driving down the street.

David and I walk hand in hand through the slightly crowded sidewalk, though all I can see is us. His large warm hand engulfs my chill one, our fingers interlocked like it's the most natural thing in the world. His eyes twinkle in the dim light that flickers all around us like an endless broken bulb.

After a ten minute walk we arrive at a dark blue wooded restaurant with people flocking all around the door. The inside is much nicer than its _'hole in the wall'_ street appearance, though.

I grasp David's elbow and we walk up to the hostess' table. Although there are people waiting all around for tables we get seated right away, to a cozy little table off to the side. David gets to my chair first and pulls it out for me, like a gentleman, before sitting down himself.

"Your waiter will be over shortly," the hostess says, giving a gentle smile before slowly moving back over to the mob.

My eyes wander around the room, admiring the overall beauty of the place. All of the walls are coated with a generous lacquer of navy blue paint. The floor s are an expensive light toned wood. They remind me of this restaurant, Donnie's Place, that I used to go to with my dad when I was little. They used to have the best ice cream sundaes around. Small lights stand in between fancy antique pictures, each one giving off the perfect dim yellow glow. Elaborate settings of flowers sit in the center of each table in a stubby little vase, their smell sweet as a newly printed romance novel.

"This place is amazing," I gush.

"Not as amazing as you," he smiles. I release a small; grin as my eyes travel down. "So, tell me more about you. Where are you from,?I mean, obviously not from here, considering your accent."

"What accent?" I ask, innocently.

He tries to hold his amusement in, but a few laughs escape. "I didn't mean it like that. I actually think it's cute."

"Well, in that case I'm from Mississippi, Jackson actually. My daddy owns a plantation down there."

"Oh, a plantation girl who can dance. Have I hit the jackpot?" he half-jokes. His eyes sparkle with humor.

Almost on cue the server comes over with a full bottle of Champagne and a cringe-worthy local accent. He's tall man with a clean shave, jelled back hair, and a perfectly pressed black button up shirt. We order and he pour some of the delightful bubbles into our chill glasses. It tastes like little stars all gathered up and capped in a bottle, the perfect match for our date. We sip it down slowly to simple conversation, but by closing time we've gone through the entire bottle.

The streets are even more beautiful than when we came in. The entire block looks like the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree. I don't feel tipsy, but David insists that we take a cab. We ride in sweet silence all the way to my apartment, our fingers interlocked on the black leather seat. When we finally arrive he comes out to open up my door and walks me all the way to the entryway.

We stand there almost nose to nose, looking into each other's eyes. All other noises around us go silent. All I can hear is thee sound of our own breaths filtering into the black night in a chill white fog. He slowly tightens his grip on my hand and respectively inches his other hand onto my hip before pulling me close and kissing me sweetly on the lips. I didn't even realize the slight stubble on his chin until it was on my cheek, but I don't really care. His soft lips still taste like the bubbling Champagne from at the restaurant. We pull away slowly and his perfect chocolate brown eyes stare into mine. He has to practically pull them away from my gaze before walking to the cab and leaving me, speak now foreign to my tongue.

* * *

**A/N: As I write, I usually write one scene at a time and sometimes post a scene before the entire chapter is done so if you feel that your missing something in the story just check. It should be there.** **I usually try to post at least one scene at a time because that way I can keep all of my fan fictions on track as well. Feel free to check them out. Thanks for understanding. You're all the best. -amazinglilli :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Aibileen**

Sweat Covers My Skin Like a layer of glue, sticky and thin. It's everywhere, my shoes, my neck, under my dress and draws. I dust my warm hands on my arm, touching its Jell-o-like texture. They feel hot, bake'n in the sun, like a blanket that's been sit'n on the heater all day. A fan resembling a ping-pong paddle whips wind against my face as fast as my hand can maneuver it. A slight breeze hovers round the skirt of my dress, pushin it up my leg slightly on the rarest occasion, causing me to stop my fan'n an' push it back against my sticky legs.

The tar beneath my thick white church heels is almost steam'n. Fine dressed white women walk round the sidewalks with their maids two step behind, cooling 'em with they thin lacy fans. Half of 'em look like they bout to pass out in the middle the street. If you look really close, you can even see _them_ sweat'n. It don't matter how much talcum power they shove in they elbows and draws, no true Jackson woman can resist a heat this bad. And boy do they all hate that fact. They hate it real bad.

My breath's only slightly ragged as I reach for the door of the paper. That nice young secretary, Bernice, say _"hi"_ to me as I walk in, though I know she just kiss'n up to everyone to get that new raise Mr. Golden promised her months ago. I think he just forgot bout it, in his old age, but she keep instist'n it come'n. I think she pray it get her boy Timmy that new bike he be hope'n for.

I don't mind much. She and Mr. Golden still the only people in this place that don't look at me like there's a funny smell'n thing in the room, scrunching they noses up and narrow'n they eyes.

I knock twice before openin his door. He's sittin at his desk, an off-white cord phone next to his ear and his feet on the table while his nasal voice fill the room. He wave for me to drop the article on his desk, quickly scannin it, before addin it to a stack, writin me something down on a post-it note.

"No, no, I understand, Mr. Thomas. It was our mistake, but-" He sighed, handin me the note and my paycheck for the week. "Yes, but if you could please just listen."

He pull the phone away from his ear and a faint yellin came from the ear-piece, makin him pinch his eyes.

"Just do three for this upcoming week, Miss Clark," he said, coverin up the mouth-piece. "I need a bit more room for Mr. Vices is talking my ear off about not giving the Mayor more print space."

I nodded and smiled politely, leavin the room, feelin bad for him. The same big-headed Mayor been elected five terms in a row, thanks to his wife bein a member of the Jackson Junior League. G-d knows those ladies love the idea of having an insider to help em with they _"Initatives."_

* * *

Sweat Beads Off My Forehead by the time I get off the bus, peeling my damp legs from the dirty back seats. Slight shade sits in front of every empty square house, all of them painted in chipping white. I opened my screen door and shut all the windows and doors that could let in the dreadful heat. I pulled out Minnie's famous chicken that she put in my poor refridgerator, turned on a little fan, and changed into my house-dress.

The stalkings came off first. As soon as I peeled em off my legs I feel the releif. Ugh! It was good. Next, I unzipped my fancy dress and laid it over the other koitchen chair, not wantin it to get all rinkled. The pins for my wig were easy. After I got that off, everythin else feel better too. Once I was down to nothin but my beaseier and draws I slipped on a simple checkered house-dress to mask my nakedness. G-d knows my mama would roll round in her grave if she thought I'd not.

I take the note from Mr. Golden and my paycheck for the week and read em both aloud, making sure everythin sounds right. My other hand holds up Minnie's chicken, allowing my teeth to pick away at its perfectly fried breadin. I lick my lips a few times. It tastes so good, even being cold. The heat would definately kill me if I tried to heat em up. I couold do that the next day if it was coller.

Sitin down, I thought about my writin, and possibly doin soethin a lil different. I'd been workin on a piece. Maybe he'd like to see it, consider it. Maybe.

* * *

**A/N: There's more coming for Aibileen. Just keep pacient. Tell me what you think so far.**


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